


Renewal

by kronette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s03e16 No Rest for the Wicked, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean stood with his mouth slightly open at the sheer enormity of the Grand Canyon. The stories he'd told himself when he was young - <i>it‘s just a big hole in the ground; what’s the big deal? -</i> faded as the sun rose another inch in the sky, baring more of the jagged cliffs to his gaze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renewal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**spn_25**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_25/) Theme Set 2, "A World Divided"  
>  Prompt #04\. After _and_ #12. Always _and_ 14\. Mourning

Dean stood with his mouth slightly open at the sheer enormity of the Grand Canyon. The stories he'd told himself when he was young - _it‘s just a big hole in the ground; what’s the big deal? -_ faded as the sun rose another inch in the sky, baring more of the jagged cliffs to his gaze. Muted colors blazed to life, reds and golds and oranges blurred together yet stood starkly separate, the haze of distance adding subtleties to the bands of color. 

"It's beautiful," Sam choked out, startling him out of his revere. 

He'd been so engrossed in the vista before him that he almost forgot his brother stood by his side. "Amazing," he murmured in agreement. They'd been waiting at Point Imperial on the North Rim since five a.m. to catch the first rays of light. The drive there had been impressive on its own, though neither Dean nor Sam were strangers to backroads or scenic routes. But _this_ , this was extraordinary, and Dean didn’t impress easily.  The Badlands in Nebraska, which he’d thought were pretty cool, were _nothing_ like what he was seeing now. 

A sharp burst of wind rushed up the canyon walls with force enough to knock him into Sam. With a breathless laugh, he clutched at Sam’s jacket sleeve as the wind turned him sideways, and he ended up dragging Sam into an awkward dance. He caught the crinkle of Sam’s smile as the wind continued its assault on them. A true Sammy smile was a rarity nowadays, and Dean felt himself respond wistfully. 

Their impromptu trek across America had begun nearly a year ago, purely by accident. All Dean had done was express curiosity at all the cities named Winchester in America, and Sam had the nearest one pulled up on the computer within minutes. They had been packed and Columbus had been in the rearview mirror within the hour. 

Since then, he’d tried his damnedest to keep Sam from wasting his last year, dragging them to all the cool sights in America that they never got to see traveling with dad.  It was a blatant exploitation of Dean’s situation, and they both knew it. The guilty twist in Dean’s gut and the bad taste in his mouth were easily ignored as he had reveled in his newfound freedom, delighted to be off the hunt, relaxing, just _enjoying_ life for a change. 

While on the Winchester city tour, they had stopped at any major tourist spot or side attraction, in no hurry and with no real destination. The East Coast blended into the Midwest, then the Southwest, where the  desert sky had been filled with more stars than Dean had ever thought possible. They had camped overnight, just for that view. 

Even he had admitted that the Meteor Crater in Arizona was cool, and they'd played hopscotch on the Four Corners until they were breathless with laughter. The legend of the Petrified Forest made them wary and alert, but neither of them had any intention of taking anything from the land. 

They’d driven up the west coast, staying on the PCH1 as much as possible. They’d stopped at the beach at high and low tide, at sunrise and sunset, sometimes in seclusion and other times among the locals and early-season tourists. 

Somewhere between San Diego and Anaheim they had stopped to feed the seagulls, dodging the birds’ attempts to pick food out of their hands. Their beach frolicking had been disrupted when the local military base went on maneuvers. With the noise, the seagulls had scattered and resettled, and Dean had frowned at the approaching trucks and tanks. The military’s presence had polluted the air and dulled the bracing crash of the waves. Sam had moved respectfully out of the way, but Dean had continued to feed the remaining birds until a sergeant ordered him off the beach. 

From Anaheim they’d made their way north to the entertainment capital of the world, or, as Sam had pronounced it, the death of civilization. They’d stood for a bit at Sunset and Vine, though it wasn't anything like Dean had seen in the movies or on TV. It had been almost...respectable. Dean hadn’t expected hookers every five feet, but he’d thought he’d see at least _one_. All he and Sam had seen were families, and they’d spent a lot of their time avoiding kids who were hopping from star to star along the Walk of Fame. 

Dean had started to follow the latest kid on her star-hop, but a glare from Sam had stopped him mid-step. Instead of the expected disapproval, Sam had walked ahead of him as they paced up and down the Walk of Fame, Dean with his head down to take in each name and role in entertainment history, Sam to make sure no one bumped into him. 

They’d sneaked up to the Hollywood sign and had climbed into the letters to gaze out over the entire city. Better than the view from Moholland Drive; better than the drive up to the Griffin Observatory, the land had given way to water and had stretched beyond the horizon, a sight that had caused a lump in Dean's throat. He’d been to California numerous times, but the only one that came to mind was when he and Sam had been searching for Dad. Jess had died, which had sent Sam back into hunting, which had set the Yellow Eyed Demon’s plans for Sam into motion, which had started the journey that had led Dean to – he’d stopped thinking, then.

Their road trip had continued through Redwood Forest and Dean had been content to let Sammy drive. Eastward in Wyoming, Dean had stared up at Devil's Tower in a different kind of awe that he now viewed the Grand Canyon. It was possibly the coolest place for a movie, ever. He'd wanted to try to climb it, but the panic in Sam's voice and the fear in his eyes stilled him. He’d watched avidly as people made their way up the base, but the compulsion to join them had been tempered by the fear in Sam’s eyes. Dean knew that Sam didn’t want to lose him earlier than he had to, and Dean had been taking stupid risks without the fear of reprisal. He knew he was going to hell; what more reprisal did he need? 

But as the nights had grown longer and the days had gotten hotter, it had become blindingly obvious to even Dean’s fuck-it-I’m-dying-anyway attitude that his Deal was driving Sammy to the edge. For the sixth night in a row, Sam’s hitched breaths had wakened him. Dean’s fingers had curled in the mattress beneath him as he had silently willed Sam to go back to sleep. Listening to the tortured sounds of Sam’s desperation and misery had threatened his resolve, had made him question his decision, had weakened his belief that this was what was best for Sam. His guilt hadn’t been so easily ignored, then, and for the sixth night in a row, silent tears had wet his pillow. 

By the time they’d gotten to Montana, Dean’s enthusiasm had been replaced by apprehension. Dread had settled over him, stealing whatever pleasure he’d been able to get from their frequent stops. N ight after night, week after week, Dean had wavered between guilt and contentment. He’d given his life; his soul for his brother, and he didn’t regret it; he _didn’t_. It was just…hard to look into Sam’s eyes in the daylight when he’d heard Sammy’s distress and nightmares the night before. 

It had reminded him of their childhood, when he’d been forced to take care of baby Sammy because Dad was overcome with grief.  When he had been just four years old, and Daddy had cried a lot. Daddy had stared at the wall, or the blank television screen, or the floor and had ignored Sammy’s cries. 

Little Dean had fed Sammy like he’d watched Mommy and Daddy do, but Dean was hungry, too, and he missed how Daddy had been, before. Wide-eyed, young Dean had climbed out of Sammy’s crib, shuffled over to Daddy and had tugged on his sleeve. It took a long time and his arm had started to hurt, but finally Daddy had looked at him. With solemn eyes, Dean had pointed at Sammy and wrinkled his nose. Until then, Sammy had been snuffling quietly, but then he had let loose with demanding wails, no longer content without arms around him. 

At the edge of the Grand Canyon, _Sam's_ arms were now around _him_ , holding him steady as the wind tore at their jackets.

The grin that had transformed Sammy’s expression gave way to the hopeless, gutted look that had haunted Sam for months.

“Sam, please,” he begged, not sure what it was he wanted Sam to do. Stop looking at him like that. Stop making him feel guilty for saving his little brother’s life. Stop making him wish he’d never made the deal, though he knew he’d never be able to survive this life without Sam. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean?” Sam choked out, releasing him and turning away. “I can’t stop it and I can’t accept it. There’s nothing else I can do except wait…” 

_ For you to die _ , didn’t have to be spoken. It filled the space between them that suddenly felt wider than the canyon beside them. 

Dean was suddenly overwhelmed by the frantic need for this to be _done_ , to just close his eyes and wake up in hell. It couldn’t be much worse than watching what this was doing to Sam. He’d lied about not doing anything about his situation. He’d picked this Point on the canyon because a crossroad was two miles away. He hadn’t been sure until just now, but he intended to end it tonight, not wait another week. He couldn’t put either of them through another week of this. 

With his decision resolutely made, peace settled over Dean. This was the right thing to do; it had been all along. Voice steady and sure, walked over and turned Sam to him. “I’ll never regret my decision,” he promised. 

Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks. “How can you know that? This is _forever_ , Dean! Do you even understand that concept?” Sam shoved at him and backed away.“Centuries, millennia, _eternity_ will go by and you’ll still be in hell. You’ll _always_ be in hell and I have to live knowing you did it for me!” 

Dean understood more than Sam thought – he’d walked the line between evil and doing the right thing most of his life. He’d stepped into the darkness more than once and figured each time, he took some of it back with him.No wonder demons were lining up to escort him to hell; they were practically distant cousins. 

He startled Sam with his declaration, “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think that I would have survived after mom died.” Now that he had Sam’s full attention, he closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “I had Dad, but he was absent even when he was there. I had to take care of you, Sammy, because he couldn’t. I made it my job to take care of you. It’s always been my job.” He took off his necklace, staring down at the carved face. “It’ll always be my job.” He placed the cord around Sam’s neck, resting the pendantagainst Sam’s chest. He left his hand over the pendant. “After Dad died, I found some – people –“ he stumbled over the word, because they were as much Demons as human, “who – just don’t take this off, okay? Not for any reason.” 

Sam’s voice shook with fear. “What have you done now, Dean?” 

He patted Sam’s chest and smiled. “You know I’ve never had faith in Anything Good Over Us All. Turns out it’s not a necessity to harness your essence into a blessed object. You see, I got this pendant _down south_ , and was told it had protective powers associated with it. I’d never seen it do anything to protect me from demons, reapers or general bad-ass freaks. Hell, even regular water and a taser nearly did me in.” ~~~~

Reminding Sam of the time he’d nearly died was definitely the wrong move, as Sam’s eyes once again filled with tears. He quickly returned to his story. “When we were clearing out all our post office boxes around the country, I came across one of Caleb’s journals. He must have mailed it to Dad before Meg – anyway, I was flipping through it and found a sketch that looked roughly like this,” he ran his fingertips over the pendant,“Along with a description of what it could be. Turns out Caleb was right, and those – people – were able to do it.” His mouth quirked in an honest-to-God smile. “It can harness the essence of the person wearing it and embed it, somehow. It’s almost like an amplifier, reading the deepest driving force within the person and replicating it until it’s literally filled with that essence.”

Despite the tears, Dean could see Sam’s brain working overtime. “But it – it didn’t protect you from the – from _that_ ,” Sam argued, not needing to elaborate. Not with the uncontrollable sobs breaking over him.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to. I never wanted to protect myself.” Tears filled Dean’s eyes as he murmured, “It will _always_ be my job to protect you, Sammy. Nothing anywhere – not on this Earth or any demon realm or spirit world – can ever change that, now.”

Sam’s hand gripped his, crushing the pendant into his palm. “I’ll change it, Dean. I’ll change it so I can save you.” 

Sam’s declaration was exactly why he’d waited until the final days to tell Sam about the pendant – just in case his information was wrong and Sam could find a way to reverse the spell. A tear rolled down his cheek as he gave a tiny shake of his head. “It’s a one-shot deal. Either you keep it as the protection charm it is, or it’s a pretty lump of metal on a cord.” 

Sam looked so devastated that Dean started to second-guess giving him the pendant, even though he knew it was the only way to stay with his brother. Sam’s voice cracked as he whispered, “I have to let you go, don’t I?” 

He said the only thing he could without completely breaking down. “You’re not letting me go, Sammy. I’ll still be with you. I promise.” 

-==------=-----===---=-----

Sam touched the pendant around his neck and felt contentment wash over him. “Dean?” he said aloud, though he knew that Dean wasn’t physically there, just as he hadn’t physically been there the past ten years. But he wa _s_ there. Somehow. He’d felt Dean’s presence when he’d first met Justine. He’d felt his brother when he’d proposed to her, and again on his wedding day. Nearly every day, he felt as though he were being watched over.

“Dean’s a healthy baby boy,” the nurse declared, startling Sam out of his reverie. A squirming mass was resting in Justine’s arms, and Sam couldn’t help but lean over to give his wife a loving kiss. 

As Sam was handed his newborn son, Dean Michael Winchester, his son’s eyes opened and Sam saw the deepest green eyes looking back at him. 

The End


End file.
